“Mummy, I have a brother because I asked from you. Right?”
“Right …” came my bored reply. Z had asked me umpteenth time. “Do you like your brother?”
Z exclaimed, “Yes, of course!”
Now that X was older, the same old same old conversation took a twist.
X interrupted, “Then why do you always bully me?”
Both Z and I were dumbfounded with the unexpected response and the unreal situation. If anything, X bullied Z more often or simply a case of pot calling kettle black.